


The Runaway

by afewreelthoughts



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blindness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-05-30 04:23:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6408652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afewreelthoughts/pseuds/afewreelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a rich stranger ends up lost in Thomas's neighborhood, he gives him food and shelter for the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rain had been pouring all night, and Thomas looked out his flat’s one window on the poor folks caught in it.  One in particular stood out.  He was dressed in a suit, soaked to the bone, and was inching along the building across the street, one hand trailing across the stones.  

Boys dressed like that did not live in Thomas’s neighborhood.  If they found themselves in Thomas’s neighborhood, they ended up robbed, or worse. Thomas folded his legs so that he fit onto his window ledge and decided to watch, in case worse showed up and he needed to call the police.  His mobile phone was warm in his lap.  

The stranger’s curls were plastered to his forehead. He was clearly lost. Thomas watched him as it occurred to him how lost he was.  The stranger pulled out his phone and held it up to his ear.  He ran back and forth across the side of the building he was touching.  He looked like he was beginning to panic.

He walked to the edge of the road and then ran across the street to Thomas’s building.  Thomas pressed his face to the window glass.  The stranger ran his hand across the wall, until he reached the doorbell.  He began to press every single buttont.

Thomas grabbed his keys on the way out of his door.  The tiles on the stairs were cold on his feet, and he cursed himself for forgetting socks, but this had to be dealt with.

When he reached the front door of his building and opened it, the stranger simply stood there, looking ahead blankly. 

“What are ya doin’, you idiot?” Thomas said.  “Want to wake up the whole building?”

“Can… can I come inside?”

“Come in the door. I’ll call you a cab,” Thomas said.  “But people here don’t appreciate it when rich boys come here for a bit of fun, and then need good people’s help when it gets dark and they get themselves fuckin’ lost.”  

Thomas shut the door behind the man, who stood stock still just inside the door, a pool of water quickly gathering at his feet.  

Just as Thomas was searching his contacts for the best cab company, the door to the front lobby opened.  A large man in a vest and shorts filled the space of the doorway.  Others crowded the hall behind him.

“What’s all this about, then?” he said.

“I’m taking care of it,” Thomas replied.

“I’m blind,” the stranger said.  “I wanted to call my friend here, but… but there’s no Braille on the flat numbers.”

The large man blinked and turned away.  There was a small commotion as Thomas’s disgruntled neighbors, the ones who were home at a late hour, because they wanted to find some peace and quiet, thank you, found their way back to their respective flats.

“Thanks for that,” Thomas said, “But you shouldn’t lie about stuff like that, ya know?”

The man still stared ahead, unblinking.   Thomas waved a hand slowly in front of him.  He bit his lip and hoped he did not take the comment about lying too badly. 

“I’ll call you a cab now.”

“Please don’t,” the stranger said. 

“And why not?”

“I ran away from home.”

“Ya don’t have to go there, but you can’t stay here.”

The man blinked and wiped water from his face.  

He was blind, Thomas reasoned, and if he stripped down to his skin, Thomas could confiscate anything dangerous he was hiding on his person.  He would be an annoyance, but no threat.

“Come with me.  Let’s get you cleaned up,” Thomas said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After making a meal of ham and cheese toasties, drawing his guest a bath, and making up the couch with one of his pillows and his spare set of sheets, Thomas watched the stranger sit cross-legged on the makeshift bed in Thomas’s old t-shirt and sweats and dry his hair with a towel.  Even wet, it fell in lazy curls. 

Thomas carefully handed the blind man a mug of steaming tea.

“Soooooo, why’d ya run away?”

The man let the damp towel fall into his lap and took the tea in both hands.  “Because I didn’t like it there,” the stranger said.

“You want to stay here for the night, ya answer some questions, understand?” Thomas said, and perched on the arm of the couch.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“You’re in a stranger’s flat in a bloody rough part of town.  Can’t have been nice at home.”

The man sipped his tea and spat it back in the cup.

“It’s hot,” Thomas said.

The stranger nodded.

“Can I have your name?” Thomas said.

“Edward.  Edward Courtenay.”

“I’m Thomas.”

“You’re not a thief or a murderer, are you, Thomas?”

“No, I’m not.  Because all thieves and murderers tell you so when you meet them.”

Edward blew on the surface of his tea and sipped again.  “This is nice,” he said. Only then did Thomas notice the scars on his wrists.

“That bad, huh?”

“What?”

Thomas touched the inside of Edward’s wrist.  Edward pulled away.  “Please don’t pity me.”

“I’m not.”

“I can pay you for your hospitality.”

“How’d you get here?” Thomas asked.

“Took bad directions or didn’t follow them right.”

“Where d'ya want to end up?”

“A school buddy of mine lives in Oxford.”

“Oxford?”

“I figured it could be a start.  Went to school there, I have some connections.”  Edward drank his tea.  “Thank you for your hospitality, Thomas,” he said.

“Don’t mention it.”  Thomas felt his eyelids droop.  “I’m off to bed,” he said.  “If ya need anything, just call.”

“I won’t, but thank you again.”

As Thomas lay in bed, he could not get his mind off of the stranger he had let in and the damage he could cause.  But his last, inexplicable thought before nodding off was that he would be disappointed if he woke the next morning to find Edward gone.  Why, he could not tell.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas was late for work the following morning. He did not want to leave Edward alone in his house - the man would likely either rob him or hurt himself - but he could not think of what else to do, and only really had time to throw on his clothes and throw back a cup of weak coffee. 

“I have to go to work,” Thomas told Edward, who was stirring on the couch, one arm slung across his face, his hair a cloud of tangles beneath.  “You’ll be fine for a few hours?”

“Yes, thank you,” Edward said, his voice dry and cracking.  

“You know where the toilet is,” Thomas said.  “If you want food or water, it’s over here.”  Thomas took Edward’s outstretched arm and pulled him off the couch and towards his small kitchen.  “Here’s the tap,” he said, guiding Edward’s hand to it, “and here’s the breadbox.  You think you can manage.”

Edward blinked sleepily.  “Yes, thank you,” he said again.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go."

Edward nodded.  He reached for the cabinet in front of him, fumbling for the knob at first, and reaching for a glass.  Thomas steadied his hand.  

~~~~~~~~

“Thomas,” Carson chided, “You’re late.”  

“I slept in and the bus was running behind schedule,” Thomas said, biting back his wish to tell the old man to leave him alone. Everyone else around here contributed, while Carson did fuck all.

Carson smiled indulgently at him.  “Never mind that, Thomas.  Just try harder next time.”  

Thomas wanted to tell him that managing a local Marks and Spencer’s didn’t make Carson a king, but he also wanted to return home as soon as he could.  When he was restocking the shelves or talking with customers, he wondered if Edward had stabbed himself with a knife, burned himself on hot water, or made off with Thomas’s laptop and emergency funds. 

The bus ride at the end of the workday seemed to take an eternity.   The traffic was so thick that several times the bus came to a standstill, and the entire trip took nearly an hour longer than Thomas wanted it to.  He ran from his stop to his building and up the steps to his flat.

“Is everything all right?” he said, panting, when he finally found his keys and opened the door.

“Hello, Thomas,” Edward said.  He was sitting on the couch again, and the remains of a broken mug were scattered on the kitchen floor.  

“I’m sorry,” Edward said when Thomas was silent.  “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine.”  The mug had been a gift from Bates, the most infuriating of Thomas’s workplace associates, and he didn’t much care if it was gone.  He fetched the broom and began to sweep up the sharp shards.

“Thanks again for letting me stay,” Edward said as Thomas cleaned.  “If my clothes are dry, I can leave right away."

“Give me a minute,” Thomas said, setting down the broom.  “Do you need to leave right now?”

“No.”

When all of the porcelain shards were safely in the bin, Thomas plucked Edward’s clothes from the rack next to the hot-water heater and handed them to him.  “Nice and dry.  I’ll give you some privacy.”

When Edward was dressed again, his clothes were still wrinkled and his hair was still wild.  He looked like he had been crumpled and flattened out again, like a piece of paper.

“May I… um…” Thomas gently laid a hand on Edward’s shoulder.  “…like this?” 

“Thank you,” Edward said carefully, and let himself be led.  Something about him, not just his accent, but the careful, delicate way he spoke, seemed almost of another era.  A fine gentleman dropped in East London, lost in time as much as place.  They descended the lift in silence, and walked out of Thomas’s building into the warm evening.  

“Not raining anymore,” Thomas said, as though that would be helpful. 

Edward smiled.  

“Want to get a bite to eat?” Thomas found himself saying, not sure exactly how the words came out of his mouth.  

“What?”

“I imagine you’re hungry, and I’m too lazy too cook…” Edward clasped his hands and shifted his feet.  Thomas shouldn’t have said anything.  He was usually casual and forward with attractive men, that he forgot this one was different - a mysterious, blind stranger, and way out of his league.  “There’s just a nice Chinese place around the corner, near the bus stop.”

“All right,” Edward said.  His eyes were pale, and had very long lashes.  

Thomas cleared his throat, surprised.  “Right then.”  He put his hand back on Edward’s shoulder.

~~~~~~~~

The menu was too long for Thomas to read Edward the entirety of it, so Edward told Thomas to order for him.  Thomas was glad that he got to seem generous without Edward seeing how cheap the place was.  If the food wasn’t to his taste, Edward didn’t complain.  Instead he asked about Thomas’s job.

Since this was probably a first and last date, Thomas decided to embellish.  “I work at Harrod’s,” he said.  It sounded posh, while still mundane enough to be believable.

“Harrod’s?  I’ve never run into you there.”

Thomas coughed on a mouth full of rice. It would be embarrassing to be caught out in such a stupid lie.  "I work in the Women’s Department.”

Edward didn’t seem to notice his nervousness.  “You like it?”

“It’s all right, I guess.  I just thought I’d be doing something more interesting with my life, you know?”

Edward snorted.  “I do.”

“Sorry - wasn’t thinking.”   He had no idea what Edward did with his life, but he could not have been content with it.

“What do you want to do?”

Since this was probably a first and last date, perhaps it would not hurt to tell the truth.  “I dunno.  That’s the worst part of it."

Edward nodded.  His curls caught color from the neon sign hanging in the front window.  Thomas let himself look at the man’s face, really look, for the first time.  His lashes were long, his nose was straight, and his lips were perfectly pink.  

“Can I ask - why are you running away?  I’m sure your friend in Oxford is nice, but... why now?” Thomas asked.

“Because if I stop running, I have to face it.”

“Face what?”

“My life.  How little of it is really left to me anymore.”

Thomas couldn’t think of anything to say to that.  

Edward did not seem to mind his silence. “My family takes care of me in their way, parading me around: Look at our sad, blind son!  Look at how well we take care of him…” He rubbed at the scars on his wrists.  “Well I’m done being someone else’s tragedy."

The waiter chose that moment to come to their table and ask how the food was.  “Good, thank you,” Thomas said.  

“We’ll have the bill whenever you have chance,” Edward said.

When the waiter left, Thomas pulled out his wallet.   "Please let me," Edward said and laid a card on the table before Thomas could stop him.  The card needed a PIN, not a signature, still Thomas was impressed with how easily Edward was able to pay for their meal, without the waiter even suspecting that he might have needed help.  Added to the fact that he spent an entire day in Thomas’s apartment and only broke was a mug, Thomas thought this man might have a better handle on his life than Thomas did.

They finished their food in silence.

“Should we go?  I’ll walk you there,” Thomas said, uncertain where “there” was.  Edward didn’t fill him in on the details, instead let himself be led out of the restaurant.

“So this friend in Oxford…” Thomas said, in what he hoped was a casual tone. “They’re your girlfriend, boyfriend…”

“Just a friend,” Edward said.

“That’s… nice.”

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Edward took Thomas’s hand.

“Should we go catch your bus?” Thomas asked.

“We don’t have to… not right away.” 

“Why do you say that?” Thomas said, his throat feeling dry.

“I’ve done one reckless thing today.  I think I’d like to do another.”

A moment later, Thomas had turned around a corner, away from prying eyes and was pushing Edward, in his crinkled and stupidly nice suit up against a wall.  Edward kissed like he was starving, and Thomas tangled his hands in his hair, crowding him even closer.  It had been a long time since he kissed anyone who wanted him so badly, and it felt good.  Thomas felt Edward’s hardness pressing against his leg, and it occurred to him that they might be close to getting each other off right here in the alleyway.

He pulled away from Edward’s soft, eager lips.  “Do you want… to go up to my flat?”

Edward kissed him again, pressing his tongue into Thomas’s mouth.  “I… I can’t,” he said, when he came up for breath.  “My family’s probably out looking for me, and I want to be far away before tomorrow morning.”

Thomas kissed his neck.  “They won’t think to look for you here.  I could take care of you.”

“I don’t want anyone to take care of me,” Edward said.  “Not now.”  

Thomas pulled away.  

“We don’t have to stop," Edward said.

“Yeah, we do."

"Thomas..." Thomas could have sworn that Edward's pale eyes were searching his face.  "I can't thank you enough."  He reached into his pocket.

"I don't want your money."

Edward pressed a large phone into Thomas's hand.  "Could you put in your number?" 

Thomas typed in his name, first and last, and mobile number.

"It's voice-activated," Edward explained.  "I'll call you when I'm safely there."

"All right," Thomas said and handed the phone back to him.  "Do..." He ran a hand through his hair.  "Do you want me to walk you to the bus stop?"

"If you could?" Edward asked and held out his hand.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the bus stop, and sat in silence when they reached it.  Three busses came and went before Thomas pulled Edward to his feet.  "This is you."  He looked away from Edward, strangely hurt that this man who had been no one to him twenty-four hours ago was walking away.  

"You'll hear from me," Edward said, and squeezed Thomas's hand before walking onto the bus.  

This was as it should be, Thomas told himself, this strange man who seemed to be from another time and place did not belong with him.  He did his best to forget about Edward on the walk home, because after all, he had little faith in promises.  That was, until his phone rang later that very night. 


End file.
